


Hitting The Nail On The Head

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Companionable Snark, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 18:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: A special anniversary is coming. John has a gift in mind. Predictably, Sherlock has an opinion- NO!





	Hitting The Nail On The Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts), [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts).



> John wasn't asking much, it was such a little thing. Why was Sherlock being so... Sherlock?!

As a general rule nothing could penetrate the steel reinforced walls of his Mind Palace. It came as a shock, therefore, that Sherlock was startled by what could only be the sound of a battering ram pounding against the bulkhead of the "Pirate Ship" in which he kept all the cabins containing his thoughts and memories. The "Deduction" was impenetrable, yet someone or something was attempting to breach his vessel.

 

Coming up too quickly from his isolation was akin to getting the bends and Sherlock found his vision blurred and his head swimming. His first real awareness was of the unlikely possibility that some sort of construction was occurring in the kitchen. As full consciousness returned he realized it was John rummaging through what the blogger liked to call their catch all drawer. 

 

"John that is an ungodly racket! WHAT are you looking for that's so important that you would interrupt my contemplations?"

 

John snorted. "Contemplations? Brooding more like, and I'm looking for our hammer thank you very much."

 

"Well you can stop as we no longer own one."

 

"What have you done with it?"

 

"Why would you assume..."

 

"I repeat, what have you done with it?"

 

"Possibly it was used in an experiment to gauge how much weight tied to a murder weapon would allow both objects to be tossed a reasonable distance so as to be effectively submerged in the Thames."

 

"In other words, you threw our only hammer, our very expensive hammer, away."

 

"If you must think of it that way."

 

"That would be a yes, Sherlock. Not that I'm happy about it, but I'll just pop down to borrow Hudders' toolbox. Probably safer to use hers at any rate. Less chance of any of her stuff having been soaked in toxic substances."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because you have an annoying tendency to soak MOST things in toxic substances."

 

"Nooo. I mean why do you need a hammer?"

 

"It's meant to be sort of a surprise, but little chance of me ever pulling one of those off around my human bloodhound. As you remember, or SHOULD remember, today- tonight rather and even tomorrow morning is our first anniversary."

 

"Anniversary John? This isn't when we met or our first case or..."

 

"The first time we made love, you git. Thought that might have made a bigger impression on you." John noted with some satisfaction that Sherlock had the decency to blush. "At any rate, the first anniversary is paper and I have a print I want to hang in the bedroom. Hence the need for nails and the missing hammer."

 

"No! That is unacceptable. You will NOT be putting any nail holes in my wall!"

 

Years later, Sherlock would recall the look on John's face at that moment was the most horrific blend of confusion, hurt and anger that he had ever seen. Shaken but undeterred, he pressed on. "Why would you even want to?"

 

For a second, words failed him. Then, "Let me see, Sherlock. Maybe I'm tired of having nothing to look at but that ancient periodic table looming over the bed like we're just a component in some sort of chemical reaction."

 

"In actuality, John, that would be a rather appropriate description of sexual..."

 

"Stop right there. We're not talking about sex. We're talking about my wanting to hang a print to give a more personal touch to, and the operative word here being, OUR bedroom wall. Not YOUR BLOODY WALL- OUR WALL! Trying to be nice here, berk!!"

 

"I don't recall asking you to be nice. It doesn't suit you."

 

"Too damn bad. I'm being fucking nice whether you want me to or not! So I'm going to get Hudders' hammer and put a hole in the fucking wall, and you will fucking like it! Happy Anniversary prick!"

 

"Fine but I WON'T like it!"

 

"Fine!"

 

"Fine!"

 

🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨

 

"Oh, hello dear. What's he done to set your hair on fire?"

 

"Shows, eh?"

 

"Enough that I was about to reach for the extinguisher. What's the trouble, John?"

 

"...and that's the whole ridiculous story. What in the hell is wrong with my wanting to put a single hole in the wall to hang a damn print, which is romantic by the way? The damn maniac SHOOTS the walls and he's going spare about THIS?! It's not like he hasn't let me put other of my things around the flat."

 

"Excuse the pun, dear, but I think you've just hit the nail on the head so to speak. You've made your mark in the kitchen, the loo and the sitting room but as you say, there's really nothing of you- both of you- in the bedroom. I think secretly Sherlock still worries that you are going to eventually leave him. If that were to happen, he could clear all evidence of you from the other rooms but that nail hole would always be there. Even if plastered and painted or wallpapered, it would still be a scar that he couldn't erase. There in the bedroom that he kept as his escape from the world and his feelings until YOU came."

 

"Oh for Christ's sake, Martha! I would never leave him- ever. I love him!"

 

"I know dear. Don't tell me, silly man, tell him. Oh, and don't forget the hammer."

 

🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨

 

Once both feet were firmly back in 221B, John pulled a squawking, mulish Sherlock down to sit on his lap. "Stop squirming or I'll sit on you, beautiful." The endearment froze Sherlock instantly. "I had a talk with our 'Mum' and she gave me her usual words of wisdom. I want you to know that I know this isn't about a nail hole. It's about you being afraid of putting something permanent in our bedroom when you aren't sure I'm going to be permanent. Well, now hear this, I am never leaving you, voluntarily at least. I love you and I fully expect that the next anniversary we celebrate will be of the wedding variety unless you object."

 

Stunned, Sherlock stammered, "Wedding? You mean...you would...you want..."

 

John grinned broadly, "I do, I do, I do. How about you?"

 

"I have no objections to that or anything else at this point."

 

"Good!", John laughed as he stood dumping his boyfriend unceremoniously on his bum. You wait here while I go put an engagement 'ring' in our bedroom wall. I'll call you when I'm done."

 

It was only a few minutes before Sherlock was summoned into the bedroom to see his gift. The print was on an ivory colored parchment like material and cradled in a burnished gold frame. "The frame's the right shade for my conductor of light."

 

"Exactly what I was thinking if I do say so myself. Well, go on then, read it to me out loud. I want to hear my words FOR you FROM you."

 

Drawing a deep breath, Sherlock began to recite:

 

"You are the twinkle in my eye, Star in my sky  
Beat of my heart, Mate to my soul  
Skip in my step, Smile on my face  
Bee to my honey, Song in my heart  
LOVE OF MY LIFE."

 

William Sherlock Scott Holmes never cried. He would definitely have to take Hudders to task for not dusting of late. There was no other explanation for his tears, it was dust. Definitely dust.

 

"So, what do you think my sweet Bee? Like it?"

 

"Very much, and I li...love, I love you even more muchly."

 

"More muchly? That MUST be love. I love you more muchly too- now and forever. Promise."

 

"John? Do you still have the hammer and nails?"

 

"Yeah, right over there. What do you need, love?"

 

"Well, I was hoping...needing...suppose you could nail me to the bed and hammer it in?"

 

"I think I can handle that. Give me one tic to put on my tool belt.", he smirked as he began stripping off their clothes.

 

🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨

 

A week or so later Sherlock and John were both sporting matching horseshoe nail rings to announce their engagement and Hudders was already fussing over what the food would be and and how they had better have "proper" wedding bands for the ceremony, although this last was said with a twinkle in her delighted eyes.

 

John had no idea how early it was save for the first light of dawn winking at him from outside the bedroom window. Sherlock was pounding. What in hell was he pounding on? Bleary eyed and cotton mouthed, John flipped on the bedside lamp to see dark curls bobbing side to side as Sherlock diligently leveled something he had just hung on the wall next to the print.

 

The frame was dark blue with flecks of silver that mimicked the night sky. Together the frames were day and night, light and dark, John and Sherlock.

 

"What are you doing, Lock?"

 

"You know how I abhor things that aren't balanced, John. I grew...weary of waking to seeing only a single print across the way so I have added my own, can't believe I'm saying this word, sentiments to yours. Feel free to give me your opinion." Shyly he added, "Also aloud if you would be so kind."

 

John stumbled nude from under the duvet not bothering with even a robe and walked over to view their new addition. In a sleep thick but clear voice he read:

 

"Every now and then...A person with no agenda  
No ulterior motive, and no self interest  
Will take pleasure in helping you succeed   
Grow and live your purpose.  
This person will operate in love, Will seek no praise,  
And want nothing in return.

THEY ARE A GIFT."

 

John was silent, but Sherlock deduced his pleasure by observing his lover's burgeoning erection. "Seems someone likes it."

 

"BOTH of us do, and since I'm already dressed for the occasion what say we hammer the point home?"

 

Flaunting his own deliciously bare bottom as he raced back to bed Sherlock winked, "As our 'Mum' would wisely say again, I think you've hit the nail on the head. Hammer away, Captain Watson!"

 

"Best make more cabin space on the 'Deduction' for a new memory, matey. Your ship's about to be plundered."

**Author's Note:**

> Both of these lovely sentiments are readily available for purchase as prints and on other merchandise. The authors of both, to my knowledge, are unknown.
> 
> The horseshoe nail rings are a real thing, I have one myself.
> 
> Happy summer vacation to ChrisCalledMeSweetie and notjustmom- my muses and my friends.


End file.
